1980 The Fate's Year
by artdam
Summary: Post HBP. Time Travel AU. Harry travels back to the year of 1979 with one thing in mind. No matter what: the fate can't have its say, future wont be determined.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry and co. However, this plot is mine and that's cool. Unfortunately, money I will see not, but that's better this way.

**1980 - The Fate's Year**

_Prolog_

"Urgh..." moaned a figure that had just appeared in the alley behind the pub. He probably had a understandable reason to moan because he had somehow appeared out of thin air, on the level with the first floor window.

The sound he had made was a consequence of the Gravity Law. He didn't know about all that, and that's not only because he had lost his consciousness, no, indeed it had everything to do with something totally different. The amount of magic that had just flown through his body could easily be compared to the amount of electricity that some unlucky, never assuming bystander would take in by being hit with a lightning bolt.

The person that had just appeared in that dark alley was definitely special – as special as those very few who had survived being hit with said lightning bolt. No, he was even more special then them – he would regain all his mind and body functions, without lasting damage – massive headache not worth mentioning.

Now, the significance of him being where he was could not be easily overestimated. However, a random witch or wizard would most likely dismiss his appearance in the shaded part of that town – not out of indifference, certainly not. He would be dismissed due to a few combined events and one strong, dominating feeling. One - the man had appeared in the dark alley. Two - it was cold and rainy. Three – the whole event took place at night. Four – even the areas around the pubs, like this one, were usually deserted – thanks to the raging war people tended to travel by floo or apparation. Those were the facts and add to all of that the another factor that influenced the minds of the Wizarding Britain, created the enormous feeling among the populace – fear.

People didn't like to talk about the emotion that run deep within them for few past, long years. They didn't like to talk about the responsible for that. Especially the one that started it all – they feared him so much, that they had stopped calling him by the name they had heard he wore – instead they choose to call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. It might sound ridiculous to someone removed from the society – but the magnitude of the terror his name brought every time it was mentioned and the fact that actually everyone knew Who those titles referred to, spoke volumes about the person behind this name and the destruction and pain his appearance guarantied.

So, the traveler was unconscious, therefore quiet and he didn't notice that the back door of the pub attached to the alley slowly cracked open. It would be an eerie sound if not for the rain splashing loudly on the rooftops of the buildings around or even louder wind fighting its way through the nearby trees on the outskirt of the town.

But the crack had been made and with that came the stream of warm yellow light from the inside. It brightened the gloomy area, illuminating the person lying on the ground. After a moment of the quiet stillness the door had been pushed open to its wide and a wand exited the house followed by a young woman. She lit her wand creating a stray of white aura and carefully directed it around the dark shadows. Nothing moved, she was grateful for the rain because it would allow her to see any invisible objects, there were non. Assuring herself that nothing seemed to be lurking ready to attack, she hesitantly moved to see the body on the ground. She didn't rush, even if it wasn't moving it still could pretend, just to trick her.

_That's a stupid thought. Why would he be lying on the mudded, wet ground if he wanted to jump you. He wont attack you, so stop fretting and help him._ _You can see he's not armed, for Merlin's sake, he's naked!_

Well, the person indeed was naked – it could be easily explained... Well, maybe not so easily. It would require few charts and drawings, plus rather extensive knowledge in Runes and Arithmancy. It could be, however, assumed that to travel that distance, crossing not only space but also the fourth dimension - time, one would have to make tones of calculations, create personalized spells and artifacts. That all was needed to send only one entity – living flesh, not only that, but one specific flesh – this flesh. To send additional items would require additional years of hard work. And knowing the person that was lying naked on the wet ground, patience was not his virtue – it was a man of action, and will be again when he is strong enough. But to that happened he would need some help, and the only person that could help him was currently turning him around to look who he was and what was wrong with him.

The man was heavy, definitely so. It was hard to turn him especially that she still had her wand lit which removed magic from aiding her. The man was wet from the rain and dirty with mud.

"Hey, sir. Are you alright?" Shaking him seemed to have no effect.

He looked to be in his mid thirties, but could be older since it is harder to tell the age if the person's hairs are totally shaved.

_Or maybe he's bald?_

It is even harder to gauge the age using the wandlight. The man had few scars around his body that were visible even with the poor light, most noticeable were the two on his face. One right on his forehead, a lightning bolt shaped one and the other on his left cheek starting right below his eye almost touching its corner. He looked war weary, but it wouldn't tell her much in the circumstances the Wizarding World was.

_He could be one of the Death Eaters._ She thought with a shudder. _But could you just leave him here and not help when you are capable of doing it? Just take him inside, at least he wont freeze to death in the house and you can floo St. Mungo's for a healer. Stop thinking and help him woman. He's cold as ice. Do you want to have him on your consciousness? Do something! Move!_

She jerked to action extinguishing the light. The body was lifted with a muttered incantation and after a few seconds the light from the door vanished leaving the alley shaded in dark again. The rain intensified, the wind blown stronger in the silent victory. Nature restored the balance of the area by absorbing the residue magic and erasing any and all evidence that some body cracked through the fabric of existence.

"You're dirty and cold. But I wouldn't be able to hold you in the tub so the Scourgify must be enough for now. I'll put you in bed in a minute. You'll be actually a first man in my bad. Well, not the first man in my bed, but first man in this bed. And with the pub now and all the war. You know how hard it is to trust anyone. You'll meet a bloke, go out with him and the next thing you know you've been mobbed or worse you realize you've been obliviated. And what then? Nine months later you become a mother? That is if they leave you alone. What if you wake up in some dirty cell? No, thank you! If you run a pub, you hear enough about that. And You mister! You still could be a Death Eater."

She was applying the charm to clean him as best she could. Unfortunately she didn't know any specific cleaning charms. And the fact that she was talking to him, well, she tended to talk a lot.

"But you are no Death Eater, right? I've heard that they have some kind of tattoo somewhere. His mark, that skull or something. Well I can clearly see that you don't have any tattoo. And don't worry I've checked. And you don't have any glamour on you, right? I'm not sure of my counter charms for glamours but I think that it would work."

The clean body was levitated to the bed in the corner of the small bedroom.

"See, all better now. One warming charm on the sheets and you should be fine. I must tell you that I was rather good with charms. My transfiguration on the other hand is hopeless. Now you lay here and rest and will go and floo-call the Mongo's. I'm sure you're going to be alright."

The woman left the room and went to the living room to the only fireplace connected to the floo network.

With a handful of the special powder and a shouted "St. Mungo's Hospital!" she trusted her head into the fireplace.

Nothing happened.

The flames did turn green. She didn't have any burns and all her brown hairs were still where they should be.

With a slight worry she repeated the process twice with the same results.

Nothing had happened.

She slumped dejectedly on the floor in front of the mocking fireplace. It happened again, someone had sabotaged the floo connection and she didn't have the slightest idea where the Mungo's actually was to apparate, also she didn't want to leave the stranger in the house.

Entering the bedroom again she sat on the chair she brought, a mug of hot coffee in hand. The man's forehead was warmer but not hot. He seemed to regain some of his colours.

"Come on mister, wake up. Wake up and tell me that you're a good guy." She mumbled into her coffee watching for any indication that he was waking.

"You're quite a handsome bloke. Even if you don't see your average wizard shaved as you are. Actually, I think I've seen only one other bald wizard. Maybe he's some friend of yours. That young black Auror. King something. Do you know him? He seemed like a nice man." She sighed. "Oy! Wake up!"

"Mmmm..."

She was so startled that she spilled some of the coffee on herself.

"Hey, mister. Can you hear me? Do you know what happened? You're in Hogsmade in The Three Broomsticks actually. You've just appeared nearby. Who are you?" She did talk a lot. But the rest of what she wanted to say froze in her throat when he opened his eyes and the most wonderful deep green eyes caught her attention.

"Please don't be Death Eater." She mumbled. And then lauder "Hey there. My name is Rose. You are in my pub now. You had some kind of accident, I tried to call the Mungo's but the floo is down again. Do you remember who you are?"

He seemed to have some problems with focusing on her and she unconsciously leaned closer still looking into those beautiful eyes.

"H..." he cleared his throat a few times and tried again. "I'm Harry. Thank you... for helping me.."

"It was my pleasure. Do you need anything? Do you want me to try and contact someone. I don't know when the floo will be up, but I can try."

"No..., not yet..., too weak.." He licked his lips a few times and Rose realized that he was thirsty. She looked around frantically for something to drink.

"Here. I hope you like Butterbeer, sorry but that's the only other thing apart from hot coffee."

He took a few gulps of the sweet drink and exhaled slowly.

"Thanks."

"Do you need anything?"

"Could you tell me, what date is it today?"

That had her flood. Lots of random thoughts started running at his bizarre question. One worse than the other. _Was he kidnapped? Tortured?_ She knew that it happened to seemingly random people. They usually vanished into the thin air, almost never to be found again. Everybody heard if they managed to rescue anyone. _Did he manage to escape by himself? Wow._

"It's 28th of November," Rose started hesitantly, "1979."

She smiled when he smiled hearing the date.

"There's still time." With that the world of dreams took him.

oOo

AN: I know that most of you who read "The End..." will want to skin me but please let me explain. This prolog is the reason that I didn't update lately. It is a thought that had been bugging me so much. There will be at least one chapter of this story before I continue "The End..." I mean I just have to let this plot to be saved for future continuation.

Of course I ask you to **Review**. Because authors do like reading what you think. No matter what others say if something is being posted on the Internet, it is posted because the author would like to read a response from his readers.

Ok, I'll stop that rambling now and just ask again: **Review**.


	2. Chapter 2

**1980 - The Fate's Year**

Chapter 1

_One Goal and One Only_

World of dreams, as wonderful as one could be, usually ends being replaced by the reality of the real world. It isn't necessary a bad thing, it makes the habitants of that world learn, plan or enjoy many wonders it provides. In many ways it is the major factor and the feeding ground to the world of dreams. As rewarding as it could be, sometimes it complicates things.

And as luck would have it, the experience Harry's life had provided him, rarely left him refreshed in the morning. There was a positive side of that thing as well – so, waking up Harry almost always was alert without any grogginess. Since he had scraped enough knowledge about the art of Occlumency, to prevent him from experiencing any violent flashback from his nightmares, he usually took few minutes to remember the events of the previous day and prepare the main tasks he sought to finish before the new day was over.

The other witch or wizard might wonder why would someone prevent himself those few precious minutes in the world in between, where the conscious mind scrape the leftovers of the dreams and allow the person to manipulate them to their pleasure. And they would wonder long and hard, Harry, however, had spend almost ten years searching the world and learning everything he could about time travel. He had submerged himself in the subject so much that he had lost contact with his remaining friends, and those were only a handful after the war. His maniacal obsession woke him every morning and pushed to plan the events of every coming day. He knew with a certainty of the Centaur who sees humans as inferior, that he would change the past and kill Voldemort, even if it would mean destroying the world - like some of the theories about time paradoxes had cautioned.

He chose to believe that changing the past created another future, another reality to the one the changer had come from. Surely if the world could be destroyed that way it would be destroyed already because people are noisy and they have to try everything they research. With that thought driving him forward he learned everything he could. No matter the source, be it muggle or magical, his quest had led him to the comfy bed he was waking in.

_I did it._

According to the girl that had helped him he was in 1979. He had time. Harry knew that before his first fall Voldemort had created only four Hocruxes – the diary, that bloody locket, the ring and the sorting hat. Nagini would be turned into one right after he had been resurrected and he had never managed to create the seventh one.

Harry knew perfectly well where the cursed pieces were. Malfoy's, Gaunt's, that bloody hill where Dumbledore took him or Black's house and Hogwarts. And he would get them all and kill the bastard before Pettigrew managed to destroy his future. His young self will live with his parents and never would have to face the monster in the first place.

_Maybe I'm selfish and want to change everything just to make my life easier, but screw that, I will bath in the monster's blood and enjoy looking him in his dieing eyes._

Harry looked around, pushing his dark thoughts for the time being, the bedroom was nicely furnished, with a definitely girly touch. He grinned when he noticed that it was rather messy with some things scattered around or not so delicately stashed in some corner or the other. And the fact that he actually had noticed meant a lot since he didn't have glasses or anything after his arrival. He shifted in the bed and realized that he actually didn't have anything on. His transport to the bed must definitely be interesting.

The list of things that he needed desperately increased with every thought, and on the top of that list were some clothes, than glasses and than he would need a wand.

_Ugh, but first - toilet._

He stumbled a little uneasy out of bed and went to one of two doors in the room with a pillow clutching tightly in front of him.

It was a small bathroom Harry had found himself in. Some time later, after a quick shower he was standing in front of a mirror looking at himself. He looked like some brute, it was a miracle that the girl, Rose, had helped him at all.

_Bloody hell! You're in the Three Broomsticks. It was Madam Rosmerta!_ Harry thought astonished, when some of the memories became clearer. _And her name is Rose?_ He snorted. _Bloody Wizarding World and their taste for rhymes_.

He looked at the mirror again, his scars and a unshaved face looked back with a scowl. He hoped that it was enough and he wouldn't be mistaken for a Potter.

_That would create too many questions. I wonder if my grandparents are still alive._ The strange thought suddenly popped in. _Not now._ _Concentrate_.

"You still need some cloths. I don't think that her garments will suit you." He said to his mirror reflection. "I need a bloody wand."

Harry decided on a quick search of the room and the bathroom. Unfortunately all he had managed to find was a T-Shirt that after it was stretched to its limits could be put on.

Of course, as the fate would make it to someone whose main purpose was to change whatever was meant to be, the T-Shirt was pink.

As for the rest of his attire, Harry had successfully managed to exchange his pillow to one of the towels from the bathroom – he didn't find any trousers that would fit him. _The damned woman don't have any robes! What kind of witch is she!_

Cursing his luck he decided to move to the other part of the house, cautious of anyone who could see him. He didn't know if she had a separate, living apartment or just lived in a room next to the bloody main room of the pub.

Fortunately the next room was a small living room with kitchen annex. Unfortunately he didn't find any robes there as well. With a dread he crept to the door hoping the pub was empty and he wouldn't embarrass himself too much.

_So far so good._

He had left the apartment and found himself in the darken hall near the staircase that probably led to the rooms that the Three Broomsticks provided for rent.

Harry groaned when he heard the noise of a busy pub at the end of the corridor.

_Bloody hell! Just my luck. Damn Voldemort. Couldn't the bloody wanker slip in the shower or something. Oh, I will take pleasure killing him._

He crept to the door with growing trepidation.

_Oh, Hell!_

The pub was full - literally.

It looked like it was a Hogsmade weekend or some such. Harry cursed under his breath. There were many students but only sixth and seventh year, from the look of things, plus many older patrons.

So far nobody saw him. He would have tried to steal a robe but he was on the other side of the room from the entrance and the hanger with some robes on it. Leaning against the wall Harry tried to find Rose. He spotted her in the middle of the room with six plates with food and a case of butterbeer levitating in front of her. Thankfully she was heading in his general direction. When she neared he tried to catch her attention but to no avail.

"Rose." Harry called quietly waving his hand.

"Rose!" He shouted a little louder. This time he got her attention but unluckily, he also got the attention of the occupants of the table she was delivering the food to.

Harry froze when he thought he recognized who they were.

_Just my bloody luck!_ He thought trying not to panic.

They all stopped talking and all looked at him. The moment lasted until the women at the table snorted spraying butterbeer on their companions and all hell broke loose.

They kept laughing at him, the men teasing Rose when she rushed to Harry. Two of the men were laughing especially hard – one with messy black, the other with longish, more manageable hair.

Harry would kept starring at the group, particularly the redhead woman if Rose also laughing quietly hadn't hauled him back to the corridor.

"Harry, you're awake! Are you alright? And what are you wearing?" She kept firing questions at him all the way to her rooms.

Harry was too stunned to respond, did he just saw his parents. He couldn't be sure because he still didn't have any glasses.

_If they were them then, Wow. That went better then I thought. At least I didn't faint. They are still alive! I'm really here. _

He shook the thoughts away. He had a job to do to keep them alive.

"Rose. Rose!" Harry said forcefully to gain her attention "I couldn't find any cloths can you help me with that? Also I will need some glasses and I don't have a wand."

"What do you mean, no cloths. I'm sure I have some of my dad's still in the closet." She said looking at him and heading to the bedroom.

"What bloody closet?" Harry mumbled and followed her.

And there it was clearly in the corner of the room, another door, now opened and Rose rummaging inside and throwing him some of the clothes.

"Now I have to go back there before they tore the place to pieces." She smiled at Harry "I'm glad you are awake, you were asleep for two days. Come to the pub and I'll make you something to eat. I've got to go."

"Thanks." Harry managed before she left.

With clothes in hand he marched to the bathroom again and changed. They fit him pretty well maybe the shirt was slightly too short in the arms but trousers fit perfectly.

Harry discovered that he was hungry and decided to head back to the pub. He still needed the glasses but he was sure that she would conjure him one or lent him her wand for that. Conjured glasses wouldn't last but could be re-conjured every so often.

_I need money._ He thought. _I have to find a job._

When he entered the main room of the pub again, fully clothed this time, he was immediately spotted and called by the group that had been laughing earlier. Harry couldn't pass the opportunity and went to greet them and convince himself that he saw right.

"Hello there." One of the men said, Sirius, Harry had noted. "Found your clothes?" He asked with a mirth in his eyes. The other three men snorted in unison – James Potter, Remus and Pettigrew; and the two women – Lily Potter and another who Harry didn't recognize; tried to hide their smiles.

Harry just smiled at them pleasantly before turning to James, "Could I borrow your wand and glasses for a moment?" He reckoned that the wand from one of his parents would work best for him in for the moment, and asking Lily Potter for her wand would by probably rude. Asking James Potter, a stranger, was also probably rude, but they had their laugh and should lower their guard somewhat – plus Ollivander said once that his dad's wand was good for transfiguration.

They seemed to tense for a brief moment but James Potter slowly slid his wand from a holster and gave it to Harry. Than he gave him his glasses as well.

Harry somewhat proudly noted that all of the others kept their hands close to their holsters, and that Sirius actually pulled his own wand.

Harry took the offered items and smiled at the group before putting the glasses near his eyes for a moment to see if they were of similar focus.

"My name is Harry, by the way." he said absently. Inwardly, he reflected that they must have trust Rose a lot, allowing some stranger a wand of their own, especially considering his scarred appearance, unshaved face and lack of hairs on his head.

He concentrated briefly on the spell that he had learned some many years ago, waved the wand and another pair of glasses, identical to the one his father had, appeared on the table. Harry waved the wand again and they changed the appearance to more oval and lighter ones.

He wouldn't dare to wear anything that might show any resemblance to James Potter. He was happy that so far they didn't look at him like at someone who they might have known.

Harry tapped the sleeves of the shirt to lengthen them a little and looked up at the occupants of the table satisfied. For the first time he noticed how young they all were, just few years from school.

"Thanks.." He finished handing the wand and glasses back to James.

"I didn't know that you can use the copying charm like that?" Lily asked, then blushed when the others laughed at her inquisitive nature.

"Right." Sirius said drawing attention to himself. "The block with a mop on his head , whose wand you've just been playing with, is James Potter, I'm Sirius Black. Next is Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin." He said pointing them in order.

Harry nodded politely to the each of them.

"Now, the beautiful lades with us are Daphne McKinnon and the noisy redhead is Lily Potter." He finished just as James smacked him on the head.

"Hey! So what if she's your wife. She is noisy." He ducked under another hand from James.

"Oh! And Of course you didn't meet Harry yet, your namesake. Well, according to them, "he pointed to James and Lily. "He is eight months short from his birth, so you have to wait some before meeting him." He grinned at blushing Lily.

Harry had to concentrate hard on keeping his jaw from hitting the floor. It seemed that he was going to be born again. _Pretty surreal. _He thought congratulating the young couple.

Rose found him at the table shortly afterwards and brought him some food. Harry had a pleasant conversation that evening. He meet his parents and they seemed to be okay. Even Pettigrew, which irked him a little. They left few hours later promising to stop by and visit him again.

He had to wait few more hours, till the pub was closed, to talk to his savior and ask her for some help. Hopefully she would borrow him few gallons to buy a wand and maybe help him in getting a job.

There's still time. But he would have to start working soon.

oOo

AN: That's the second installment. **Review** please.

And **Thanks** for your **Reviews**.


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